


Alone Time

by Angelily_Viventis



Series: Alan Rickman x Plus-size reader [52]
Category: Alan Rickman - Fandom
Genre: Age Difference, Daddy Alan, Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fucking, Needs, Neglected wife, Older Man/Younger Woman, Size Difference, Smut, sexual desire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:09:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25870354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelily_Viventis/pseuds/Angelily_Viventis
Summary: (Y/N) and Alan hasn't had alone time in 15 months. She's about to change that.
Relationships: Alan Rickman/Original Female Character(s), Alan Rickman/Reader
Series: Alan Rickman x Plus-size reader [52]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1729954
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Alone Time

"Oh, hello," (Y/N) greets as a flustered Alan hurriedly makes his way through the front door at noon.

He pops in only to throw his satchel bag haphazardly on the sideboard and grabbing a change of coat. Within seconds, he's headed out the door again.

"W-where are you going?" She calls after him, warming her hands with the cup of tea that she's cradling.

"Out," he opens the door quickly, about to shut it again.

"Yeah but where?" She presses.

"I have a meeting at the pub with an old friend," his head sticks back into the house as he teeters outside on the front step.

"I haven't seen you all day..." Her voice reveals her sadness, falling deaf on Alan's ears.

"Sorry, I gotta go. I'm running late."

And with the harsh shut of the door, she stands there, alone in the front room.

A defeated sigh escapes her throat before she finishes off her tea. She misses him. With the children still at school, and between their busy schedules, they used to come home during lunchtime to spend a few minutes together catching up. These days, Alan's schedule takes him out of town for the most part of the day.

They only get to see each other at supper, but then they have the children who won't stop talking about school-related topics. She misses having adult conversations with her husband. Nowadays, all they talk about while cuddling in bed are school fees, activities for the kids, and doctor's appointments. She misses being intimate with Alan.

With a tinge of anger starting to build within her, she places her cup in the sink and reluctantly heads back to work. She could have just stayed at work, she figures.

The remainder of the day drags on. Alan made arrangements for the girls to be dropped at home after school, and he made sure their homework was done in time for the three of them to take a stroll through the garden square before supper.

Finally, (Y/N) arrived back home after a rather unsatisfied day at work. At first, she wanted to confront Alan for having wasted her a trip home and for not telling her that he would be meeting up with a friend instead of having tea with her. But after seeing him interact so lovingly with their now ten- and thirteen-year-old girls, made her forget about some of her previous resentment towards him.

Supper went by uneventfully. Alan, as usual, told a ludicrous story which made Amelia fall off her chair in laughter. He went upstairs to help Alyson with an English assignment while leaving (Y/N) alone downstairs to clean up the entire kitchen.

 _For a family who only spends evenings in the house, we sure can dirty up the place_ , she thinks to herself as she rolls her sleeves up to her elbows.

Her previous frustrations and anger start returning as she washes the third crusty pan. She looks over at what has already been cleaned: four plates, four glasses, and a truckload of utensils. She looks around the kitchen, mentally noting what she still has to clean: one more pan, strainer, stovetop, sink, wipe down countertops, place leftovers in fridge, vacuum, and wash the floor.

With each item added to her list of things to do, frustration and unappreciation boil withing her. Angrily scrubbing at the surface, she lets the pan deliberately fall and clatter in the sink.

_Oh, screw it. He isn't downstairs to even notice my passive-aggressive behaviour._

She keeps the feelings bottled up, in check, and soon finishes with cleaning the kitchen. Although it is mid-winter, she still wipes at the perspiration on her forehead and temples. She pours herself a glass of red wine after hearing Alan finally make his way into the downstairs area again.

"Ready to put the girls to bed?"

Alan knows what that means. His wife has had a terrible day and she'd like to blow off steam with his help.

"Alright, young lady, bedtime," he says to Amelia where she's watching telly in the living room. "Grab your water, let's go."

(Y/N) places her wine glass on the coffee table before following her husband and youngest upstairs.

"Turn around," Amelia instructs her parents before she starts to dress in pajamas.

Alan walks around her room, almost like he does every night, inspecting each trinket she has collected and displayed throughout her room.

"Okay, you can look again."

Both parents tuck her into bed, kissing her goodnight and saying they love her.

(Y/N) walks past Alyson's room, light still emitting from below the closed door.

She knocks three times, "Bedtime. I love you."

"Love you, too, Mummy."

"Tell me what has gotten you so tense today," Alan asks, resting his hand on (Y/N)'s thigh after they settle themselves on the sofa.

She takes a long sip of her wine, rotating the glass in her grip as she looks into his chestnut eyes. Those eyes that have seen every part of her. Not just every part of her body, but every part of what makes her _her._ Her personality, her behavior, her good and bad days, and every mood on her mood spectrum.

Should she tell him? Should she moan to him about him not telling her about his meeting at the pub? About leaving the entire kitchen for her to clean? Should she mention how she misses spending time alone with him? She could vent to him about how her hot flushes are making her uncomfortable at work. She could do all those things and spend the entire evening working herself up and potentially upsetting Alan in the process.

_No, that won't get me anywhere._

She decides to shove all her built-up feelings down and instead, enjoy a peaceful night with her Alan. She might even lead him upstairs after she's done nursing her wine. Judging by the way his hand is traveling further up between her legs, _he_ might be the one leading _her_ upstairs momentarily.

The switching on of the kitchen light startles both adults and they quickly stop their intimate hand trailing.

"Why aren't you in bed?" (Y/N) turns around on the sofa, after seeing her eldest daughter wandering through the kitchen.

"I'm hungry - I wanna get something to eat," Alyson opens the fridge, her eyes scanning its contents.

"Here, I'll make you something," Alan offers before getting off the sofa and heading into the kitchen.

_Unbelievable!_

"She shouldn't be eating at ten-thirty, Al."

"What?" Aly chuckles surprised, looking over at her mother in the living room.

"Are you being serious? Mummy, I'm hungry," her tone becomes slightly offended.

"(Y/N)," Alan says with a warning tone, "if she's hungry, let me make her something to eat."

All (Y/N) can think about is how they will just dirty the kitchen and leave it all for her to clean again.

"She should've eaten at supper when everyone else was having supper."

"You know I don't eat tomato-based soups..." Aly retorts.

 _Screw it_ , she thinks as all the bottled-up anger and frustration from earlier returns, ready to boil over.

"The hell you do," (Y/N) rises off the sofa and rounds the kitchen corner, placing her wine glass on the island. "That's the most spoiled thing I've ever heard you say. You could have eaten something else at supper time."

"Why are you blowing up like this?"

"Don't raise your voice at me, young lady," (Y/N) warns.

"Why do you have to be like this?!"

"Ten-thirty is too late to be eating, Alyson. Not to mention it's a school night. You kids should be in bed by now."

"Why do you have a problem with me being up?"

"I would like to spend some time discussing grown-up stuff with your father."

"Are you jealous Daddy is spending time with me?" Alyson challenges cheekily.

"Can I have some back-up here, Al?" (Y/N) looks expectantly over at her husband.

She cannot believe her daughter right now. _The cheek._

Dread fills his veins at hearing her request. He has never had to choose sides between his wife and children before. He has always supported his wife's decisions and they have always been a united front in front of the children, but right now, his wife seems a little snappy and unreasonable.

"(Y/N), look, what is the problem? Let me make her something to eat so she can go off to bed."

With disappointment and disbelief evident in her chocolate eyes, she snatches her wineglass off the island, and angrily makes her way towards the stairs.

"I utterly hate you!"

(Y/N) stills in her tracks, not moving at hearing those heartbreaking words leave Alyson's mouth.

Alan swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, as he cautiously eyes the back of his wife.

 _That's taking it too far,_ he silently admits to himself.

They never raised their children to be disrespectful.

"I'm not too fond of you either right now," (Y/N) says quietly, eerily calm.

Alan can hear how broken she sounds and hangs his head in disappointment at their daughter, rubbing at his eyes in frustration.

After (Y/N) walks off, Alan silently prepares his daughter a sandwich, thinking about how to address the situation. Contrary to his wife, Alan is immensely calm in these situations and he has the ability to talk to his children without a stand-off.

"Sooo... What's the damage?" Alyson sighs heavily, hanging her head as she hops onto a barstool, picking out an apple from the fruit bowl to play with.

She knows she messed up. She knows there are consequences to her actions.

Alan looks up at her while spreading the syrup on a piece of bread, looking down again as he purses his lips.

_He's not angry at me, just disappointed._

"You know you overstepped a line back there."

"Yes, I know," she sighs, looking intently at the stem of the apple.

"Grounded for one week, coming from me. As for Mum, I'll have to have a chat with her and ask what sort of punishment she deems fit for the crime."

"I'm sure she'd want to set my backside alight with that slipper of hers."

Alan chuckles unexpectantly before having to stop himself for showing too much joy at his wife's expense.

"Go easy on Mum, won't you?" He points the peanut buttered knife in her direction. "She's pre-menopausal and she's going to start blowing up about little things more often now. She can't help for it - it's the hormones."

"Yeah, alright," she sighs, taking the plate with the peanut butter and syrup sandwich from him.

"You can eat it in your room, be sure to bring the plate back down before Mum wakes up tomorrow. And send her a text or something, apologizing, but for heaven's sake don't go to her now, you'll start World War III."

"Alright," she takes a satisfying bite of her sandwich.

"And she is right, you know?" Alan lifts his eyebrows knowingly.

"Hm?"

"You should have had supper with the rest of us."

"Yes, I know... Mummy's always right."

He chuckles, "Yes, she is. Now, off to bed with you, Poppet."

He kisses her on top of her head, watching as she makes her way upstairs. He sighs, mentally preparing himself for having to repair whatever pieces of his wife are broken upstairs.

Once in their shared bedroom, he hears her crying coming from the en-suite.

"May I come in?" He asks gently.

He pushes through the door after hearing no response.

"You're throwing this out?" He picks the empty wine glass out from the waste bin, setting it on top of the counter.

A pang runs through his chest at seeing his wife's tear-streaked face as she paces around the bathroom like a tiger.

"Darling, come here," he sweetly places a hand on her arm.

"Don't," she rips free of his grasp.

He has to admit, being denied like that sure hurts.

"I know you are upset. Is it because you are tired or because of the hormones?"

_O-o-o-oh, he shouldn't have said that._

"Why does the responsibility have to rest on me?" Her face contorts in anger.

It's been a few years since the last time she's lashed out at Alan and he has to admit, he really doesn't miss it. Not one bit.

He keeps quiet.

"First off, you just popped in during lunchtime to pop off again. Leaving me feeling a tad rejected. Then you leave the kitchen for me to clean while you're having fun with the girls. If the girls ever wonder why I'm so uptight it's because I'm left to do the cleaning-up by myself while you are the fun parent who gets to spend every breathing moment with them."

Her breathing is increasing, as is her heartbeat, as she paces through to the bedroom, pointing at him as he trails behind her.

"You are right, I apologise," Alan starts. "The girls and I will start helping out more around the house.

"And that's not the end of it. Why didn't you back me up in front of Alyson?" She asks with hurt glistening in her eyes as she strips down into her underwear, discarding her clothing in the laundry bin.

"(Y/N)..." He breathes, shaking his head minutely.

"And that's another thing, why do you only call me by my name these days? Where did the _darlings_ go?"

"Okay, hold on. One thing at a time. I didn't back you downstairs because I do believe you were being unreasonable. Yes, she should have had supper with everyone else, but she was hungry at that moment. The quicker we feed her and send her back off to bed, the quicker we solve the problem. Besides, she knows now what is expected of her."

" _Expected_ of her?" She scoffs. "I love how you're always ready to defend Alyson and always last to stand up for me."

"Now, that's not true and you know it."

"Let's face it, she ruined the whole evening!" She slams her dresser shut after taking out a pair of red silk pajamas.

"Whole evening? Did you have other plans?" He asks confused as he discards his clothes and slips into his boxer shorts.

"Yes, as a matter of fact," she bites back bitterly. "I wanted to have _sex_ , Alan."

_There we go. Now we're getting to the root of the problem._

"Why didn't you just say so?"

"I've been trying to initiate it for _quite_ some time now, but the children keep interrupting. That's why I've been so adamant about their bedtime! Which you clearly don't give a rat's arse about!"

"Okay, hold on, it's not that big of a deal-"

"Not that big of a deal?" She interrupts him. "Do you even remember when the last time was that we were intimate?"

"Three months ago?" He takes a guess.

"Try _fifteen_."

"No," he chuckles. "It can't have been that long."

"It amazes me how you haven't noticed that we haven't been having sex..."

"Well, I guess I've just been occupied by the girls," he shrugs, getting into his sleepwear.

"Exactly, Alan! They spend every breathing second with you. I would also like to spend some time with you - alone, child-free," the tears are now rolling down her cheeks as she exposes her raw emotions.

Alan feels bad for her. He cannot believe he hasn't been intimate with her in fifteen months. He used to have a sex-drive that matched hers, but he guesses old age just got the better of him.

"Come here," he envelopes her in his arms.

"No," she pulls her scantily clad body away from him.

_A second time._

"I thought you wanted to shag?" He asks confused.

"Not anymore. Not after I had to spell it out for you. Where's the romance in that?!" Her tears are now becoming angry.

Just then, his phone rings.

With a sigh, he walks over to the chair and picks the phone out of his discarded jacket pocket.

"It's Alyson. Hello?" He clicks the answer button.

"Unbelievable," she mumbles under her breath, throwing her arms melodramatically up in the air.

"Now is not a good time, Darling. Get back to bed, you can speak to her in the morning. Good night," he ends the call.

He turns around in the dark, amazed to see that she's turned the lights off on him.

He shuffles towards his side of the bed and gets in, switching on his bedside light.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm about to go to sleep."

"With your coat on?" He looks confused at her coat-clad body under the covers, especially knowing what little pieces of undergarments she's wearing under it after not having put on her silk pajamas.

"Good night, Alan," she reaches over him to switch his light off again, giving him the cold shoulder as she rolls away from him.

A few seconds later, her eyes shoot open as the light switches back on. She feels the bedding move off her then Alan's hands rolling her onto her back.

"What. Are. You. Doing?" She seethes.

She feels his heavy weight consume her as he sits on her lap, trapping her legs and pinning her arms above her head.

Alan looms over her, inches away from her face, "Do. You. Want. This?"

Despite the protesting huff, her soft mewling is enough confirmation, and he leans down to seal their lips in a sensual kiss.

God, it feels good to properly kiss his wife again.

The feeling that rushes through their veins is indescribable. Every nerve ending has been on pause for far too long. Within seconds, a fire ignites between them, and without even much touching, (Y/N) is already moaning shamelessly into his mouth.

He doesn't bother removing her coat, only slipping his fingers into the front and moving the lapels off to the sides, exposing her delectable plump body.

She might be forty-six now, but her body is still the same as when he first started making love to her twenty years ago.

His large hands splay across her pudgy stomach, his fingers trailing the cool satin of her red corset-style brassiere.

Her hands reach to his baby blue boxer shorts, slipping his limp cock out of the opening.

He watches in amusement as she wraps her warm hand around his uncircumcised tip, gently tugging and pulling on it.

She has always been fascinated by the male anatomy and has admitted to Alan before that giving handjobs are one of her favorite things to do because she gets to observe every bulging vein, every skin crease, and of course, every eye roll from Alan when he comes all over her hand.

Soon, his heavy breathing fills the room as (Y/N) starts pumping him faster, squeezing hard around him.

_That's enough, now it's my time to please her._

With one tubby finger, he pulls her matching satin thong aside, revealing her glistening slit. He doesn't shy away from it as he slips two fingers inside her, gently pumping in and out of her. She's already dripping from pleasing him and Alan doesn't need to give much more foreplay before she begs him to be inside her.

He slips right into his wife, surprised at how tight he forgot she was as her shaven lips swallow his length. Similarly, (Y/N) needs time to adjust to his size again.

She wraps her legs around his waist, and with Alan still pinning her hands above her head, he wastes no time filling her aching core with slow and deep strokes.

She looks up and notes Alan deeply knotted brows, his lips that look delectably soft. She seals them together again in a kiss, but their lips don't stay together as he continuously pounds into her.

"Ooooh, yes.... right.... there," she moans, writhing beneath him.

She wines helplessly, her sagging breasts that have now escaped out of the top of her brassiere, bouncing beneath him. She locks her feet behind his buttocks, guiding him, _begging_ him to take her harder.

Her head sinks back into the pillow, her body jolting deep into the bed as Alan pulls out almost completely before slamming back into her again.

Her wrists are now red and aching from where Alan is gripping them tightly above her head.

(Y/N) hasn't heard Alan's uninhibited grunts in fifteen months, the sound now music to her ears. The sound of them making love, being intimate. Oh, how she has missed those sounds. _Their_ sounds.

"Uuuugh... this feels... soooo... goooood," he grunts, eyes reduced to slits, that delicious crease between his brows.

He can barely string a sentence together at this point as he pounds into her relentlessly. With her hands still pinned above her, he gazes down at her, their eyes flaming in mutual desire. Their hearts pound rhythmically as he jolts her into the bed.

"You... don't know... how much... I need this... Al..." she pants, tears about to leak out of her eyes.

She has to admit, until tonight, she felt a little neglected by her husband. Physically and emotionally.

Alan's eyes are heavy, about to cum.

"Oh, Darling..." he leans down, resting most of his naked upper body against her exposed breasts, kissing both cheeks and then her lips.

"I never intended... for you... to feel this way... I'm sorry," his bent-forward position allows for deeper thrusting, resulting in eye-rolling pleasure.

Hearing Alan's apology, mixed with how good their sex feels right now, added her pre-menopausal hormones, causes (Y/N)'s voice to crack in a cry.

She sobs helplessly, colourful cuss words leaving those beautifully plump lips, as Alan continues his long, deep strokes. She's consumed by emotion and decides to throw caution to the wind.

"Fuck, Alan... Oh, God, yes, yes!! Right there..." She shrieks out, eyes glazed over in tears.

His cock is throbbing within her, a thick mass of sizzling nerve endings about to explode. Hearing his wife enjoy every second of it, is a great motivator for Alan as is evident in his increasingly heavy panting on top of her.

He picks up the pace, holding his wife close, consuming her with his weight, as he thrusts relentlessly into her.

Soon, (Y/N) can feel his cock's every swollen curvature rub against her throbbing inner walls, and with a last thrust, he comes inside her.

With a deafening shriek and spasming fingers and toes, she comes undone underneath her husband.

"So, uhhh, Dad?" Alyson asks sheepishly the next morning as she waits at the kitchen island for Alan to finish preparing her breakfast.

"Hm?" He hums absent-mindedly, flipping an egg over in the non-stick pan.

"Did you guys play tennis last night?" She knows she's pushing it, but she also knows her father will make a joke out of the whole ordeal.

His actions still, his mind whizzing into overdrive as heat spreads up his neck.

"I heard a lot of grunting coming from your room last night. The walls aren't as thick as you and Mum like to believe," she sing-songs knowingly.

He searches his mind for an appropriate response before turning nonchalantly around.

"It's not my fault Mum can't keep it down. I can't help that I'm _that_ good."

She sputters on her drink of water, wiping the dribble off of her chin.

"Daddy, ew! You guys are disgusting."

"What?" He chuckles, giving a shrug, "You're the one who brought it up."

Their laughter dies down as (Y/N) enters the kitchen, humming.

"Thanks for the text. I appreciate your apology, Aly," (Y/N) says sweetly, giving her daughter a side hug and a kiss on her head.

"Does that mean no punishment?" She perks in her seat, asking hopeful.

"Ha! No chance. You're still grounded for one week upon Daddy's request, _plus_ you'll be coming to uni with me after school for that week to clean the dishes in the break room."

"Yes, alright," she sulks down into her seat, watching as (Y/N) walks over to Alan, placing a surprising kiss on his cheek.

"Wow, Mum. You seem much, much happier today. Any reason in particular?" Alyson challenges cheekily, eyeing her father as she takes a bite out of her egg.

"Shut it. I don't wanna hear it," Alan warns playfully while pointing the spatula at her.

"What are you guys talking about?" (Y/N) asks flustered, smiling shyly.

With a smiling sigh, Alan answers, "The children are requesting... that we... be quieter next time _we're at it_ "...

"Duly noted," (Y/N) raises her coffee cup at Alyson before walking out of the kitchen, face as red as a tomato, feeling like she can bury her head in the sand.

"Oh, God, Alan...." Alyson mocks in a whispered shriek resulting in a growing pair of eyes from Alan as well as a slap on the shoulder with the spatula.

"You're too big for your boots, Missy," he jokes before he sees his youngest enter, feeling hot under the collar, as he finishes cleaning up the kitchen.


End file.
